


One More, For Me

by Swindlefingers



Series: Ellara and Samson [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Multiple Orgasms, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-28
Updated: 2015-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-15 14:59:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3451355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swindlefingers/pseuds/Swindlefingers





	One More, For Me

"Have another for me?" Samson purred into her ear, as she slumped over against his chest, straddling his lap, shuddering, slicked with sweat, trying to catch her breath. He swirled his thumb against her clit slowly, lightly. Her hips instinctively matched the movements of his fingers.

He watched the waves of her second orgasm roll down her spine from over her shoulder. She pressed her temple against his, “Mhmm” she whined between hot, ragged breaths. Her hands were shaking, trying to grab any part of him but twitching with each waning pulse of pleasure.

He’d already spent himself and gone soft; the sheets were damp and cooling under this thighs. His legs screamed at him to shift into a different position, but fuck if he was going to stop now. She had kept rocking her hips, rolling through her first orgasm, into her second, grinding her clit against his fingers, and now he was asking for a third, one more. Just for _him_.

He sped up, finding another pattern that she responded to, something to repeat over and over, eking out all of the sinful cries he could. “Gonna give me another? Hm?” He kissed at the spot behind her ear, dragging his tongue over her earlobe.

She slowly slid her forehead across his, swallowing hard, gasping, before breathing a “yes” into his open mouth.

"That’s my girl," he murmured, catching her bottom lip in his teeth. She used the last bit of strength to slowly push herself upright in his lap, locking her arms against his chest, her brows knit together in delicious frustration. Grinding on the edge of too much and not enough, never enough, never stop.  _Please, don’t stop. Please, Samson, don’t stop._

On the days when rocks down pelted him from somewhere up on the walls, or when people pretended not to see him, or saw him a little too pointedly, he’d retreat to these sounds, these sensations. The way she smiled at him, the way she said his name, the way she  _mewed_ his name, the way her cunt tasted, the way her skin smelled at night, the way her hands felt in his hair, the way she seemed to never ask for more than he could give; these things they would never know about their Herald, but  _he_ did.

Leaning forward, he licked away the beads of sweat that rolled down between her breasts, and left a trail of wet kisses until he wrapped his lips around one of her puffy nipples. She shuddered with every flick of his tongue, whimpering through her nose.

He could see the bloom of redness spreading over her chest and up her neck. She slowed down to gain a few moments of rest before her hips picked up their pace. He slid his fingers inside of her, feeling his sticky seed and letting the heel of his palm rub against her overworked clit. A surprised gasp escaped through her smile.

Letting her nipple slide from his lips, he caught her expectant gaze, “Come for me.” She let out a sharp sigh before biting down on her lower lip and nodding her head earnestly.

He leaned back against the headboard to watch her whole body move. He pressed another finger into her cunt, wanting to fill her even further, pumping them as deep and fast as he could. Her hair clung to the sweat on her skin, her cheeks flushed, she panted, she pulled her bottom lip across her teeth, her fingers dug into his chest, the pace of her hips rose until she suddenly tensed. Her body becoming one tightly quivering bowstring. 

A few heavy seconds passed until her head fell back and she let out a wanton cry. She swayed and shuddered, as her body relaxed; her chest heaving, her ribs straining against her skin.

As her breath slowed, the Inquisitor rolled her head around to face Samson wearing a tired, crooked smile that he eagerly returned.

He pulled her into his embrace. Her whole body felt like it was quietly vibrating. He slowly ran his hands up and down her back, “You ok?”

She drummed her fingers along his collar bone, taking in a deep breath and exhaling, “Mhmm…”

He decorated her forehead with a crown of kisses, “Good.”


End file.
